Transference
by Merisha
Summary: Dean is seriously wounded and Sammy has to race against time to save him. Deans POV. Humor and angst ensues!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sam and Dean ... toys for grown-up girls ;0)**

**Synopsis: The poop hits the fan for Dean and Sam - aah poetry _(grin)_**

_Just a quick heads-up - I'm a complete and utter comic book fanatic - so my writing style reflects a bit of that madness - you've been warned (wink, wink, nudge, nudge!)_

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**Transference**

**By Merisha**

**Thanks to John for Beta-ing it for me ;0)**

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"I said drop it!!"

The sheriff has his gun aimed at Sammy, Sammy is aiming at the Lich (who tonight, ladies and gents, is masquerading as the damsel in distress) and I'm aimed directly at the sheriff. Your typical Mexican standoff ala Winchester. Shit, I really hate it when this happens! My neck pops as I rotate it slowly. The muscles in my arms are tense, if he so much as twitches, he's gonna be dead before he's meddling ass hits the floor. Innocent bystander or not, nobody threatens my baby bro!

"Like I said before sheriff, this isn't what it looks like!" I am seriously pissed but my poker face gives nothing away and my eyes never waver from my target.

"Listen boys, I don't know what your 'beef' is with this young gal, but this ain't the answer! Now lower your guns slowly and let's discuss it all civilized like."

Beef … he said beef … I love countrified folk!

The 'gal' in question is standing motionless in front of Sam's aim, looking imploringly at the sheriff, the true picture of frailty and innocence. There's no doubt this Lich is good at what it does.

"Sheriff, I know this looks bad, but please, you've got to trust me when I tell you that the thing standing before us is a murdering monster!" I can hear the irritation seeping into Sammy's voice. The Sheriff doesn't seem convinced and my gut tells me this isn't going to end well.

We've been tracking this crafty bitch for four solid days. Sammy's research and my keen sense of navigation (with a slight detour, cause I don't need to ask for directions) eventually led us to Eastern Wyoming, where 6 untimely deaths occurred over the past month. The victims seem to have died from self inflicted wounds; the offending weapons still clutched in their very stiff hands. Sammy figures that statistically that means that almost a tenth of the town are suicidal. _Snort!_ Definitely worth an investigation.

We did the whole fake "FBI agents Smith and Jones" thing to get a closer look at the victim's files. Must've inadvertently raised some suspicion with the local sheriff, who did some FBI'ing of his own, and followed us. The trail led to this abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town and just as we were about to open a can .. the sheriff showed up. So here we all are, with a very confused officer-of-the-law (who's got the wrong end of the stick) thinking that we're on the verge of shooting an innocent girl, when in fact we're trying to snuff out the life of this cold blooded killer.

It's probably hundreds of years old from what we can gather. With the help of Sammy's google-ing we found out that Lich's are powerful, magical and very undead creatures. I really hate undead creatures. These things apparently sell their souls to a demon or the devil himself (which hit a bit close to home) so that they can inherit evil powers like raising the dead or stealing life in order to live. The Hellhound-blog says that they can transfer damage to anyone who attacks them in close contact and we're already to close for comfort. We've never been up against the likes of it before so our plan was simply to kill this mother and get the hell out of Dodge, but the Sheriff is kinda messing with that plan. When was anything ever simple for a Winchester?

Which brings us back to the here and now …

"You boys are already knee deep in the compost, so lets not make matters worse, you need to put your gun's down so that …"

But before he can finish his sentence, the Lich decides to make its move. It lunges forward with unexpected speed. Sammy manages to get off a shot …

"POWW!!"

… and just barely wounds it in the shoulder. The innocent face of the young girl contorts hideously as it barrels towards me. Holy crap! I take aim, shoot …

"POWW!!"

… and miss.

"Shit!"

I don't get time for a second shot. This thing is faster than the speed of light and yet everything seems to be moving in slow motion. It's just like when that Clark Kent dude from Smallville goes into bullet-time.

The creature swooshes to the left, it's so close I can feel its decaying breath on my cheek. For an instant I get lost in its murky eyes and get a terrifying look at authentic evil. I fight the urge to throw up. Its claw like hand reaches out and brushes my shoulder as it shoots by. A cold tendril of hopelessness seeps through my skin from that touch and freezes me to the core. I suddenly feel that I'm almost definitely in deep shit. I look over at Sammy who's running towards me, a raw "NO" reverberating from his lips. The shocked sheriff decides that now is a good time to come out of his stupor, spins around and fires ...

"POWW!!"

He catches the Lich squarely in the chest. It looks straight at me for a split second and smiles, then screeches out through the door and into the night. The whole thing is over in an instant.

That wasn't so bad. The gun slips from my relaxed grasp and thuds to the wooden floor. I grin awkwardly at Sammy. He's suddenly right up in my face. I battle to focus on him for a second.

"No … No … No …!"

I want to tell him that it's okay … we at least wounded it … that means it won't get very far … we'll just hunt it down, again ...

But I can't seem to get a word out. I cough instead.

"Coughhhh!"

I taste blood. I taste blood? Is it just me or is the floor tilting?

"You're okay, I've got you, I've got you!"

Sammy's hands are holding me, holding me up. I look down incomprehensibly at the blood seeping between my fingers. My hands have somehow found their way to the gapping wound in my chest. There's a gapping wound in my chest? How did that happen? It suddenly dawns on my addled brain … a Lich can transfer damage … close contact … it touched me …

"Oh shit! Oh Shit!" my voice sounds shaky and weak. I'm sure that's not a good sign. I think that it may be a possibility that I'm dying over here. Shit, I hope I'm not dying! I really didn't want to end it all in some old shack in the middle of nowhere. I was secretly hoping to leave my mortal coil age 95 banging a voluptuous blonde. Life just keeps handing me those damn lemons!

I look up at Sammy and there are tears in his eyes, but that doesn't hide the stubborn and determined glint. It's the same look he always gets when he'd do anything to save me. My chest suddenly tightens.

The pain is finally making its presents known and my eyes start to water. I cough up some more blood. Oh this is just peachy!

"Coughhhh! Ouch!"

I really hate pain.

And then as if on cue my shaky legs begin to buckle. Luckily Sammy has a firm grip on me as we both sink to the floor. He manages to turn me into his hold and I find myself cradled up against his chest, my head falling back to rest on his shoulder. Generally I'd protest the whole 'chick-flick' moment and rag Sammy for being such a girl. I don't. I shake slightly … must be going into shock. The intensity of the pain doubles as Sammy pushes his hand down on the wound. There's blood everywhere. My blood.

"AAAAAH shit Sammy!!" I huff through the waves of agony. I think I may just need to pass out for a while.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I've got to stop the bleeding Dean!"

"What the hell just happened?" The Sheriff is kneeling next to us. He brushes an unsteady hand through his hair.

"You Bastard!"

I jump slightly at the harshness of Sammy's tone.

"Look what you've done …" he looks uncomprehendingly at the Sherriff and his voice breaks as he whispers "… look what you've done!!"

The sadness in his voice is almost too hard for me to bear.

"Sammy? It's okay, he didn't know …" I suddenly feel very weak. It's like someone is switching me off from the inside. I clutch Sammy's arm like a lifeline. His will power is the only thing keeping me lucid. I don't want to die, not yet, I'm not ready. I still have 9 month, 22 days, 7 hours, 35 minutes … but who's counting?

It's at times like this that I wish I could be like John Wayne or Steve McQueen and rattle of some classic one liner like "I'm the stuff men are made of" … but instead I whimper …

"Owie! Owie! Owie!"

**_TBC … _**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter 2 - hope you enjoy it ;0) **

_Warning: Mild langauge et al_

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I think that I might have blacked out for a few minutes 'cause when I open my drowsy eyes, Sammy is tapping my face vigorously ...

"Dean! Dean! … you with me?"

I nod my head slowly.

"Shit, you scared me half to death … you went all pale … and I thought you weren't breathing ..."

"Mm … okay …" my body betrays my reassuring words as I almost curl in on myself to relieve the stinging sensation radiating from the wound.

"Breathe Dean! Just breathe, in … out … in … out … that's it!"

My very indecent imagination pictures me and Sammy at a Lamaze class and my sick sense of humor makes an appearance. It seems to pop up whenever I'm in a crisis. Huffing slowly in imitation to Sammy's instructions, I look him soberly in the eye and groan, "I want my epidural!"

I can't suppress a smirk, which brings on another bout of coughing.

"Coughhhh! Ouch!! Coughhhh!"

Sammy chuckles as he shakes his head.

"You are such an ass, Dean! And here I thought you were dying in my arms ..." His voice catches as he gently wipes the bloody froth from my mouth. He's trying in his 'Sammy-way' to make me feel better, but we both know that you may as well flip me over 'cause I'm nearly done.

The sheriff hurries back (didn't even realize he was gone) with a mammoth first aid bag. It's an army issue IFAC trauma kit. Nice. That's definitely going on the Santa wish list.

Sammy apologizes as he tears my ruined Van Halen t-shirt to further expose the wound which he cleans with a trained hand. Damn, I really loved that shirt, had it since the 2004 concert tour.

Ow … Pain! I'm in serious pain over here. I shift a little. It doesn't help.

The sheriff (I must've missed something 'cause Sammy's calling him Hal, but I'm still calling him asshole) rummages around in the kit and pulls out a pack of 'QuickClot'. He pours it directly onto my wound and applies a pressure bandage which he quickly and efficiently wraps around my torso.

"Ow, ow!"

"Sorry kid, need to make sure it's secure."

He's definitely ex-military, been around enough of them to know a 'Semper Fi' man when I see one.

I whisper, "Our dad was a Marine."

Don't know why I suddenly felt the need to tell him that … but he stops for a second and looks at me silently. I'm feeling a bit lightheaded until I realize that I've been holding my breath and my body shudders as another wave of pain washes over me.

There's a remnant of a kiss lingering at the top of my head. I smile as I squeeze Sammy's arm lightly. That's just like my little Samantha, how can you not love him.

The sheriff interrupts the moment of fluff.

"We need to get him to a hospital."

"No … no hospitals!" Sheesh, this guy must be several kinds of stupid.

"Son, you've been shot, you need professional care!"

Thankfully Sammy steps up to the plate, cause I just don't have the energy …

"Hal, we can't take him to a hospital. How are we going to explain the bullet from your gun lodged in Dean's chest. You saw it with your own eyes, you shot that Lich," … _Sammy's voice cracks slightly_ … "and it transferred its injury to Dean. Anybody it touches is potentially its next victim and it's still out there somewhere. There's no telling what its plans are and I have no idea how we're gonna kill it. Don't let me get started on the ramifications if it decides to come after us at the hospital. Believe me, I'd rather get Dean the best medical care available to man … but it's just not an option."

I know Sammy's also thinking about my police record and a certain FBI agent who's on our tail.

"We just can't risk it. Besides we're not too far from our friends place. He can fix this. Bobby can fix Dean." Sammy sounds convinced, which gives me some hope.

Sam has no choice but to explain our history to the sheriff in 100 words or less. I give him credit for having an open mind, there ain't many people I can say that about. Hal looks like he wants to argue but finally nods in agreement.

"Okay, I'll 10-36 this call and then we'll get him to this friend of yours. We can use the squad car. Let's get going. I'll drive."

Sammy argues with Hal for another minute about the consequences of helping us, and how we usually manage on our own, but Hal's having none of it. He feels responsible for what happened. Damn straight! I'm starting to like him already. Sammy finally relents as he maneuvers carefully from behind me and piles his jacket beneath my head. The shift in position isn't comfortable and I suddenly miss the closeness. My eyes drift shut for what feels like a second, but when I open them again there's a flurry of nervous activity.

Sammy is securely taping a needle and tube to my chest. Probably to relieve a tension pneumothorax because my breathing definitely feels easier. Not for the first time I thank dad for giving us such intense medical training. It's saved our bacon more times than I can count. I jump slightly as Sammy's relieved face pops into my line of sight.

"Hold on Dean, we're nearly done, just gonna give you something for the pain."

Shit. Finally.

The sheriff pulls out a 10mg morphine auto injector. I'm waiting in anticipation as he swabs my forearm. I can only describe the next sensation as full bodied … must've been a good year. _Grin._ The relief that follows is instantaneous. Oh yeah! OH … YEAH! … Dean definitely likes his morphine! Morphine and Dean are gonna be great pals.

"Sammy … you've got to try some of this stuff! It just … dills my pickle!" my words are a bit slurred. _Grin_.

Sammy chuckles at my obvious state of bliss. Don't know what he finds so funny. He scoops me up gently in one fluid motion and starts carrying me to the car. As I hang limply in his arms I look around at the bleak surroundings, the old trees … the old farmhouse. The world is such a beautiful place. And Sammy's such a beautiful person … I choke up …

"I love you man …"

Sammy grins, "I love you too Dean!"

I look at Sammy thoughtfully, my little bro, my flesh and blood, he reminds me of a dancer. I big strong masculine dancer. Is that an oxymoron?

"Sammy, I think … we should take up ballet!"

He snorkels.

"No, seriously man … with your grace … and my good looks … we'll have chicks flocking around us … like lambs to the slaughter house!"

Sammy laughs. Sometimes he acts really weird … for no reason. We'll if you can't beat 'em, join 'em … I give him a goofy grin ... _Grin._

The sheriff is holding the door open as Sammy places me in the backseat and scoots in behind me. My spirits suddenly sink …

"Sammy … the Impala!"

"It's okay Dean, I made sure it's locked up. We're in the middle of nowhere so it should be safe."

For a split second I contemplate staying behind.

"I promise I'll come back for it as soon as you're feeling better. Besides, you don't want to bleed all over the upholstery, you know how long it takes to get those stains out."

Unfortunately I do. Good thinking Sammy my boy. I appreciate he's concerned reassurances and relax a little.

"We'll be back soon baby, don't miss me too much."

Sammy chuckles. He gives Hal the directions to Bobby's place, who steps on the gas as we high tail it across state. Next stop 'Singer's Salvage Yard' in South Dakota.

I look up lovingly at Sammy. He's the sunshine in my life. The apple in my pie. My _'I know when I don't comb my hair I look psychic'_ baby bro. _Snorkel._ "Coughhhh!" He's on his cell phone.

"Bobby, its Sam. We've got a problem. Dean's been shot. In the chest. Yeah, I know. He's okay for now. No. He's not doing to well, but he's holding his own. It's a long story. I'll explain when we get there. We're headed over with the sheriff. No it's okay, he knows. Just be ready. We'll be there as quick as we can. And Bobby … thanks."

About 2 miles from the state line, I suddenly don't feel too good and I manage to spew an unsightly mess right across the backseat of the sheriff's ride. Serves him right. I hate being sick. When he glances over at me, my heart catches at the look in his eyes. It's the same look dad used to give me every time I was sick or hurt. A look of dogged determination.

"It's okay son, you're gonna be okay! Just hang in there!"

I've changed my mind. I like Hal … he's not such a bad guy ... and his probably a pretty decent sheriff. Now I'm sorry that I've ruined his upholstery.

Sammy is speaking to me in a soothing voice as he tries to clean me up as best he can. I can't make out what he's saying but his calm tone (and finally being free of pain) leaves me floating in a warm cocoon. I'm really … tired … and my eyes feel … really heavy ... so I close them.

…………………………

There was this girl that I met once in Oklahoma. Can't remember her name, know she had a body made for sin, but the thing I remember about her most were her lips. I remember tracing the vermilion border with my tongue while she rode me like a wild stallion. I was fascinated by them. They were straight, slightly plump at the bottom, while the top curved up into a familiar smirky pout. I remember gently biting her ripe bottom lip and sucking it into my mouth. It was sweet and soft.

It feels like those same lips are on mine now.

They're covering my whole mouth and I feel minty fresh breath being forced into my lungs. There's a firm, forceful pressure on my chest in three quick concessions and then the minty breath helps expand my unresponsive lungs.

"Breathe dammit, please Dean, breathe!"

The soft lips cover my mouth again and I ride with the flow of breaths and compressions, breaths and compressions. I feel like I should be helping, but I just don't have the strength. I'm slipping back into darkness when the panicked sound of Sammy's voice suddenly pulls me back.

"Dean! Please don't give up on me, fight damn you!"

Hot tears are falling on my face as he continues breathing for me. Sammy's hurting, not the wounded kind of hurt, it's much worse, it's a loosing your soul kind of hurt. I know that hurt far too intimately, and I can't face Sammy having to suffer it … so I use my Winchester stubbornness and force my lungs to expand as I inhale a weak breath.

"Dean? Dean? You with me?" The eagerness in his voice is worth the struggle of taking in another weak breath, so I do.

It hurts like a sonavabitch and I'm shaking uncontrollably but Sammy half laughs, half cries when I force my eyes open to look at him.

I can handle any shit the universe dishes my way. I'm a fearless, ruthless and deadly son of a gun when it comes to demons and monsters. Give me evil in any shape or form and I'll send them straight back to hell. But Sammy, my Sammy … he's the only one with enough power to break me ... and he does it by just shedding a tear.

I do the only thing I can to protect myself. I make him laugh.

"Sammy … were you … just kissing me?" I give him a stern look.

"What! No Dean, I was trying to save your life ..."

"Yeah … right … when last … did CPR … involve using …your tongue?"

"I did not … I never would … I didn't give you tongue!"

"Nice Sammy … taking advantage … of a wounded man …" I wait for a few seconds, to let it sink in, and then give him my cockiest grin. _Grin._

Sammy catches on and grins back.

"Dean, you are such an ass, and you're so not my type."

"I'm everyone's … type … Sammy!"

"Yeah, well if I ever kissed you, which won't happen, you'd **never** forget it!"

"Well … you **did** kiss me … and I think … Bobby's dog … is better at it … than you …"

My plan works as Sammy chuckles and the amused sheriff shakes his head. I realize that I'm lying on the gravel. Next to the side of the car. In the road. No cars for miles. It's strangely a fitting place to resuscitate me. I've always felt at home on the road, the freedom of the great outdoors, the music blaring and Sammy riding shotgun. That's my peace of heaven.

Hands are suddenly bustling everywhere, checking the bandage, checking the tube, checking the needle, checking my pulse - way not to panic boys. Hal and Sammy move me back into the car, Sammy still supporting my body with his own. I only concentrate on breathing while Sammy watches my every movement like his life depends on it. The sheriff must have broken some land speed records because before I know it he's pulling into the Salvage Yard, pebbles flying as he slams on the brakes.

Sammy climbs out from behind me, leans over and lifts me from the backseat with tender care.

"We're here Dean! Just hang on. You're gonna be fine, Bobby'll fix this. He has to fix this."

Sammy's eyes look slightly moist as he carries me around the car to where Bobby is waiting anxiously. I put on my most reassuring smile, trying to look as tough and manly as I possibly can cradled in my baby brothers arms. Bobby gives me one look and says:

"Holy Crap!"

_**TBC … **_


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3 - _enjoy ;0)_**

_P.S: For all the fanat**Ackles** out there who left me such great reviews - you guys are the best ;0)_

_**Warning: Mild langauge et al**_

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The morphine has worn off and my chest is on fire. My breath is coming in short sharp gasps as Sammy hurries after Bobby who leads the way to the back room of his pad. He converted it into a small (and slightly illegal) surgery a few years back for occasions just like this. There are usually a few injuries that just can't be explained or cured by conventional medicine and backyard surgeries like these are commonplace for Hunters across the States. You just need to know where to look.

I cry out as Sammy balances me carefully on the surgical table in the middle of the room.

"AAAAAH … hurts!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry … just hang in there Dean! It won't be much longer."

Sammy gives Bobby a quick update on my condition while I look around wearily at the shelves full of 'borrowed' medical supplies and equipment. Thankfully Hal doesn't seem too surprised by the whole ER setup. He probably figures it's on par with our line of work. He's telling Bobby about his medic training with the Cor while he checks my pulse. He reminds me a lot of dad. Shit … I really miss dad.

I'm feeling nauseas so I lean my warm forehead on Sammy's shoulder while he supports my shivering weight. Bobby is hurriedly cutting away what remains of my shirt and t-shirt and then carefully unwraps the bandages encircling my torso. I cough painfully …

"Coughhhh!"

… leaving speckles of blood all over Sammy's already bloodied shirt. I look at the morbid sight … and throw up. There's nothing left and I'm forced to dry heave as Sammy holds me up and rubs my back soothingly.

"… owie … owie … owie …"

"It's okay, I've got you, you're okay."

I swallow hard … clinging to his arm like I'm clinging to his words.

"Bobby, we need to hurry, I don't know how much more of this Dean can take!"

"Okay Sam, just lie him down, I've got to see the extent of the injury. He's lost a lot of blood and we need to remove the bullet … you two up for this?"

All three of us nod our heads.

Sammy maneuvers me around, lifting my legs and supporting my neck, so that I'm lying flat on the table. His intake of breath is a good indication to the seriousness of the wound. I'm definitely in the deepest level of "compost". The pain in my chest is crushing the life out of me, but I force myself to concentrate on breathing evenly. Bobby and Hal come over and have their first look at the damage.

"Shit!" I can hear the self recrimination in Hal's voice.

Bobby looks at me worriedly as I inhale sharply … his hands are cold enough to freeze the balls off a pool table! He does a quick examination, looking for signs of infection and firmly prodding the array of bruises littering my chest for evidence of broken ribs. He incases my face with his burly hands, looks me in the eye and says, "You just hang in there kiddo, I've seen worse … You're gonna be okay … ya hear!"

I know BS when I see it … but I nod anyway.

"Okay boys, he's got a fever, which is to be expected and a few bruised ribs, probably from the CPR. My main concern is the bullet, we have to get it out as quickly as possible and replenish the blood loss. Let's get in there and fix what needs fixing. He's in severe shock but we don't have time to stabilize him so I hope you're ready … it's gonna be one hellava long night!"

The bustling of activity begins with Bobby cleaning off the remaining 'QuickClot'. Hal takes out the needle still inserted in my chest while Sammy removes my boots, unbuckles my belt and shimmies my jeans down my legs.

My shaky voice is barely audible as I say, "… didn't … even … buy me … diner …"

Sammy smiles down at me and tenderly brushes his fingers through my sweat soaked hair.

"Jerk!"

"… bitch! …"

I turn slightly to watch Bobby. He's dousing a scalpel in antiseptic and there's some kind of medical journal lying open on the table, probably "Surgery for Dummies" with my luck. He has a whole row of instruments laid out next to me. My heart nearly stops when I see him pick up a long silver contraption with pincer like extensions attached to the end. At this point Sammy has thrown a towel over my midsection (for modesty's sake) and is shimming my jocks off. I feel exposed. I look at Bobby again with the long silver instrument gleaming in his hands.

"Oh please god … don't let that be … an anal probe!"

Sammy chuckles and an amused Bobby mumbles something about me being an asshole that definitely needs a probing, 'cause I'm full o' shit. _Grin._

Hal is checking the inflatable cuff on the rapid infusion device attached to the IV. He taps my trembling arm for a vein and inserts the needle. The cool liquid is a cocktail of broad spectrum antibiotics, much needed saline and more importantly … a strong painkiller. Love them painkillers. I'm drifting between consciousness and oblivion when I suddenly smell ammonia. It's strangely familiar. My entire body starts to cramp up and I remember ... the last time I felt like this I had a seizure. Aaah shit … this is gonna hurt! I only get enough time to groan "Sammy …" before my head slams back into the mattress, my body arches up and my eyes roll back.

…………………………

The first thing I'm aware of are strong fingers firmly massaging the junction between my shoulder and neck. It feels sooo good …I may very well have died and gone to heaven. They move up my neck to my hair line, around to my temples and forehead and then back down again, steadily circling the tense muscles. Those magic fingers are relieving a splitting headache. The process is continuous and a sigh contentedly.

"Bobby, I think he's coming around!"

"Dean! Dean! You with me son?"

The massage continues and I don't want to open my eyes ... but the second thing I'm aware of is that I'm cold … I'm seriously cold over here … ice packs? I have ice packs under my neck, under my armpits, along the side of my body and … my eyes fly open …

"Ho … Ho … Holy Toledo!"

I shiver unashamedly. What kind of a sick person packs ice on another mans jewels? I still need that equipment in good working order Dammit!! I ain't ready to have my sperm cryogenically frozen straight in the package. Sammy has the gall to chuckle nervously …I give him a murderous look … I'm not amused.

"I'm sorry Dean … but you're fever spiked and you were having seizures … we had to bring your body temperature down as quickly as possible!"

Bobby shrugs his shoulders apologetically and nods his head in agreement.

"Could … you … do me … a favor … Sammy?"

"Anything Dean …"

"Could … you … go and stand … near my foot … so that I can kick … your ass!"

The little shit is chuckling again.

"I said I was sorry Dean … it had to be done … it was a necessary life saving procedure."

Well someone's gonna need to perform a necessary life saving procedure on Sammy when I'm done with him. Payback is gonna be a bitch. Bobby and Hal are removing the offending ice packs. I still have a fever but apparently it's come down dramatically. No shit … ice on your 'Johnson' will do that to ya. I have no idea how long I've been out and I'm not sure if the surgery is over … so I look up hopefully at Sammy who's positioned himself by my head and is adjusting an oxygen mask.

"How … long?"

Sammy sometime has the uncanny ability to read my mind.

"You've only been out for about 15 minutes ... but Bobby has already administered a local anesthetic and we're pumping you full of pain killers."

He looks at me worriedly.

"We can't risk putting you under … so if you don't loose consciousness Dean … you're pretty much gonna be aware of what's going on around you."

Oh good … something to look forward to …

"Coughhhh! Ouch!!"

Sammy places the oxygen mask over my face and the fresh rush fills my nostrils and lungs. The slight tingling sensation in my chest is gone. The anesthetic must've taken because I can't feel anything from my nipples to my belly button. It's a weird sensation … almost like having 'pins and needles' without the pins or needles.

"We're ready Sam."

They've hooked me up to a heart monitor that looks like it belongs in the museum of postmodern art. It's still working 'cause I can hear a soft beeping in rhythm to my heartbeat displayed on the small monochrome screen. Sammy tucks a thermal blanket around my legs as I look over at Bobby and Hal and smirk at the surgical mask trying valiantly to cover Bobby's unruly whiskers. I have this insane need to burst out laughing and realize for the first time that I'm scared. Sammy seems to realize it too because he cups my face in his hands and forces me to look away, holding my gaze captive.

"Just look at me Dean … keep looking at me … I'm not going anywhere …"

I smile … and swallow the lump in my throat ... no need for me to go all 'Aunt May' on his ass.

Sammy is squeezing my upper arm, his other hand gently massaging the nape of my neck. I watch him with tired 'drug-clouded' eyes. During my moments of lucidity he talks to me, telling me anecdotes from his time at Stanford while Bobby and Hal operate for the next hour or so. He's never spoken about it before but I listen attentively.

"… and then there was this time that Jess was convinced we had a ghost, 'cause things kept disappearing out of the kitchen, and I decided to catch the bastard on my own, ya know, acting like van Damme to impress her, so I came out with the salt, the silverware, you name it, even drew a pentagram on the floor and I was standing ready to rattle off a complicated Latin exorcism … and out comes this mouse …"

I grin tiredly.

"… and Jess, she just burst out laughing … she thought I was pretty weird, but she said that's why she liked me …"

I want to chuckle but there's a sharp pain running up my arm. I hiss instead. I'm still contemplating whether I'm having a heart attack or maybe even a stroke when Sammy yells:

"Shit Bobby … what the hell is that!"

I look over at Bobby who's holding the blood covered bullet between a pair of tweezers, while Hal is stitching the wound closed. If I had the energy I'd hurl. Talk about an out-of-body experience. I follow his gaze back to a thick red welt running up my arm, like someone just scratched me … hard. I watch as a second scratch makes its way slowly up my arm. Ow … hurts! My invisible tormentor is making a third scratch next to the other two. It looks suspiciously like claw marks. Oh shit!

Sammy and I look at each other as he murmurs, "The Lich!"

Bobby gets this expression on his face like we just grew horns and a tail and burst into a rendition of Kumbaya.

"Sam, you'd best explain to me what happened out there."

Hal is putting a dressing over the stitches as Sammy relates the 2 minute version of the last 24 hours, explaining how the Lich touched me, how Hal fired at the Lich, how I got the raw end of the deal.

"Damn it to hell boys … do you even realize the amount of crap Dean has gotten himself into?"

Nice Bobby. Blame the sick dude. Luckily the torture seems to have stopped for the moment … probably just sending me a message ... got it loud and clear bitch! Sammy starts dabbing at the swollen skin with disinfectant.

"Lich's are the oldest forms of necromancers out there. You don't toy with these things unless you know for certain what you're up against. They're clever and deadly and a whole shit load of trouble to kill. Luckily it was injured before it touched Dean and must've holed up somewhere to lick it's wounds. That's probably why Dean's still alive … it knows that you're after it. If they touch you … they're connected to you … and they'll keep on transferring their injuries to you … until you eventually die. "

Sammy's face turns two shades of white. I swallow nervously ... I really don't feel too good … and this thing is seriously messing with my Chi.

"There must be something we can do …"

Bobby is shaking his head as he leans heavily on the bed. The weight of the world is on his shoulders.

"Sam, this thing feeds on human life, and the only way to take a life is to end it. They absorb their victims essence, it's their sustenance, what keeps them alive … it's also their weakness. Think of it like an invisible rope. When their victim dies, they're pulled back to the body to retrieve this life force. That's when they're at their most vulnerable. But until then … if this thing gets shot, scratches itself or decides to walk in front of a bus … Dean's gonna …"

Bobby stops and puts his hand on my forehead, rubbing his thumb gently along my warm brow. His eyes are glistening as he looks up at Sammy.

I try not to hyperventilate …

"The only way we can save Dean … is to kill him."

_**TBC …**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter 4 - _enjoy ;0)_**

_P.S: Thanks again to everyone who left me such great reviews - you can keep them coming, I don't mind ;0)_

_**Warning: Mild langauge et al**_

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I flinch slightly as Sammy's voice booms in the small room. I'm seriously gonna have to rein in my nervous ass.

"WHAT? NO! What the hell are you talking about Bobby? There's no way we're killing Dean!"

Yeah, what Sam said, I nod my head hopefully.

"Now, just hold yer horses boys and hear me out. This thing is connected to Dean, so it doesn't matter what we do, we're not gonna be able to protect or save him unless we take matters into our own hands. If we hunt this thing down and kill it, we kill Dean. It's holding all the cards right now and we need turn the tables."

Sammy doesn't looked sold, must admit, neither am I.

"How Bobby, explain to me how exactly are we suppose to save Dean by killing him?"

My eyes are drawn to the vein throbbing on his forehead. I'm suffering serious déjà vu over here … it's almost like the fights dad and Sam used to have. I slowly pull off the oxygen mask, swallow the lump in my throat and automatically step into my role as peacekeeper …

"Sammy … just give him a chance …"

He looks like he wants to argue, but stops at the pleading look in my eyes and puts on his pouty face, the one he reserves for his "really pissed" moments. I know that face well.

"I'm not saying it's a fool proof plan …"

Bobby seems to be gathering his nerve as he continues:

"… we're going to have to stop Dean's heart long enough for the Lich to be pulled back to his body … it won't have a hold on him anymore … we can kill it … and hopefully revive Dean."

Yeah, I agree … that's definitely NOT fool proof. I shift uncomfortably.

Hal looks uneasy as Sammy revs up to have one of his famous 'knotted panty' fits, bet he wishes he'd stayed in bed today … join the club dude.

"Bobby, that is the dumbest idea I've ever heard! Hopefully revive Dean? Man, I can't believe I'm listening to this shit. He's gonna be dead as in D E A D and you're risking it all on hopefully reviving him? Besides which Dean's too weak, his body can't take any more punishment, the odds of bringing back from something like this are ... are …"

I volunteer, "astronomical?"

"Yeah, friggin astronomical!"

Bobby's moustache is twitching, that's so not a good sign.

"Do you have a better idea Sam? Cause if you do, I'd love to hear it!"

One of them is definitely gonna blow. I'm running on empty, but I need to diffuse this situation … there's only one way … pull out the o'l sympathy card. Pep talk time. Okay Dean. You can do this. You're a damn fine actor, a natural, your fifth grade teacher told you so …

… I cough ...

"Coughhhh!"

… put on my "Haley Joel" face …

"hey guys?"

… feebly squeeze Sammy's arm …

"sick person over here!"

… and smile bravely … it's a winning combination …

Bobby and Sam look at me guiltily. Worked like a charm … yeah, that deserved an Oscar … I'd like to thank the little people …

"Shit, sorry Dean …" Sammy runs his fingers through his bangs and sighs heavily.

"Yeah, sorry kiddo ..." Bobby adjust my IV "… how ya feeling anyways?"

"Mmm okay … considering." I outta be ashamed, and I am … a little, but my embarrassed blush only seems to reinforce my ruse as Sammy worriedly starts checking my vitals. He tends to get caught up in the drama.

"Listen Bobby, I apologize, I didn't mean to go off at you like that, it's just been a long day. I'm tired, I'm mad as hell and I feel so damn helpless!"

"Yeah, me too Sam!"

Bobby slaps Sammy on the back as they turn their attention to the logistics of terminating a Lich.

Crisis averted. Shit I'm good, sorta, cause I'm pretty sure I've turned an unpleasant shade of green. I hate showing any signs of genuine weakness but that doesn't stop me from wincing as the Lich suddenly digs its claws into my shoulder (well technically its own shoulder). Drops of blood appear from the five small puncture wounds. That bitch is definitely toying with me.

I look over at Sammy, Bobby and Hal. Maybe I should say something. I'm dying to say 'owie' but Sammy has already seen too much of me 'touching my feminine side' to last a lifetime (that sounded kinda dirty, even in my own head … he, he, he). Besides I'm the manliest dude I know. I'm as hardcore as a peach pip, so instead I mutter …

"dagnabitholyfudgesunofapreacherman!"

Three pairs of eyes turn to look at me questioningly.

"What? … it … hurts!"

Sammy's eyes widen as he spots the damage. Oh yeah, I'm definitely gonna hurl …

"Sammy!"

… he's using the force again because there's suddenly basin under my nose as I succumb to another bout of dry heaves while he supports my shaking frame. I fall back exhausted.

"Ow, pain!"

"Take it easy Dean … here …" he carefully spoons a few ice-chips into my mouth. I swallow gratefully. Lord, what I wouldn't do for a mint.

"This thing is seriously hankering for some whipass!"

My eyebrows lift in surprise. Sammy sounded just like me there for a second. Yup, definitely rubbing off on him. 'Bout time. He dabs ineffectively at the puncture marks while Bobby absently chews on his bottom lip.

"Well, one things fur sure, we can't waste anymore time, a decision needs to be made, and it needs to be made now!"

Hal sighs defeatedly, "So what in tarnashin' are we supposed to do?"

Tarnashin' … he said tarnashin' … this guy just cracks me up!

Sammy seems at a loss for words. Time to make the decision for us all. I'd rather die taking this thing head on that wait around for it to finish the job. If it's bravery, it must be the dumbass kind ... and from experience, when given a choice, I always do the dumbest thing under the circumstances.

"Sammy … I think … Bobby's right."

"What?" Sammy gives me one of his wounded looks, he's seriously breaking my resolve over here.

"Don't get me wrong … I don't like this any better than you … but what other choice do we have?"

"Dean, there has to be another way … anything, anything but this."

"I wish there were Sammy."

His eyes are glistening again. Shit!

"Please Dean, you can't ask me to do this, not after all we've been through, not after all you've been through!"

"Sammy … I'm not gonna let this thing take control of my life, take away the time I have left … time with you … quality time with numerous willing babes," I grin rakishly, "and if this is my only chance, good or bad … I have to take it!"

He knows I'm right. I can see the war raging behind his eyes.

"I'm not gonna let you die Dean!"

"I know … I'm counting on it."

Bobby clears his throat. He hates 'girly' moments as much as I do. He lays out a detailed plan with possible end scenario's and most of them aren't on my 'Top 20 Hits' list.

"The safest way to do this is to induce sever hypothermia, where Dean's core body temperature drops below 86°."

Oh that's just peachy … I'm so not looking forward to getting intimately acquainted with those ice packs again. I'm sure it wouldn't seem that bad … if I weren't lying here in the buff …one strong breeze away from exposure … and it's cold in here! I glance down quickly at the towel, yeah, still securely tucked in place.

"We'll have to monitor him very closely. As soon as his heart stops the Lich is gonna be pulled back to this room. Which means we'll only have about 5 minutes to trap, contain and blast this thing to kingdom come … then we'll immediately begin resuscitating Dean, administer warm saline and steadily bring his body temperature back to normal."

Sounds easy enough!

I _"Yawn!"_

I'm exhausted … I _"Yawn!"_ again … just need to close my eyes for a minute.

…………………………

Something's weighing me down … I'm cold … probably dead … wait … can't be dead, brains still working … kindav. Oh shit! They've buried me, they've buried me alive. Oh shit! "SAMMY!"

Need to get out, not dead … oh god … "SAMMY!"

"DEAN! DEAN! Listen to me … just calm down! … you're okay … stop kicking … just calm down! … that's it … I'm here …"

"Sam…my?" I force my eyes open.

"Yeah Dean, it's me … just relax, everything's okay."

"Shit!" I sigh with relief. My heart is racing in my throat. Sammy is splayed across my chest, Bobby's holding my arms and Hal's attempting to get up off the floor, he was probably holding my legs. Sorry.

"Are you okay Dean?" Sammy's worried face swims into view.

"Yeah … just thought …" I can't finish the sentence.

"It's okay … you were out of it for a while. We started with the ice-packs … weren't sure if you were gonna regain consciousness again … until after …" he swallows anxiously.

Bobby and Hal are layering me in the ice packs again. Strange, I'm cold, but I'm not shaking. Wonder if that's normal.

"Bobby's given you a muscle relaxant to stop you from shivering, it'll help speed up the hypothermia."

Bobby's looking at the reading from the **ear** thermometer – nice choice.

"His temp is at 90° - heart rate and blood pressure are down."

"Mmm doing … good."

I smile at Sammy who's tiredly rubbing his eyes as he sits next to me. My words sound slurred – wish I could blame it on a 'purple nurple' – at least that would be enjoyable.

"Dean … I don't know what I'm gonna do … if you …"

I cut him off before he can finish. This was my decision. "Dying's easy Sammy … living's hard … and you know me … I don't ever … take the easy route."

He chuckles.

"Well, just make sure that you stay away from that friggin' light!"

I grin at him tiredly. Damn I'm cold.

Hal has laid out an array of equipment to bring me back from the 'Elysium fields', more likely 'Hades' with my luck. I look at the row of EpiPens and heaps of blankets ... it's not inspiring courage. He double checks the paddles on the heart monitor and EKG leads while I listen to my sluggish heartbeat. 

Bobby is checking the weapons laid out on the table. He's ready for a war … flare guns, handguns and even my own custom Winchester 16 gauge, 6 round, pump-action shotgun is in on the action. I love that gun. Everyone's movements have been carefully choreographed with one thing in mind, this bitch is goin' down tonight. Ah crap … I'm itchin' to be part of the battle.

Sammy is checking his Dessert Eagle, a determined glint in his eye. He's gonna be fine, I know he can take care of himself, I taught him everything he knows.

"Sammy … ya know … I was thinking … I'm gonna be seriously stiff in the morning!" _Grin. _

"Dean, that wasn't funny!"

"Oh … come on … it was a little … funny?" Bobby and Hal are shaking their heads, chuckling.

He gently squeezes my neck and smiles down at me as he gets up, "Ass!"

He moves out of my line of sight.

I'm friggin' cold … can't move … and it's getting really hard … to breathe.

I suddenly feel panicky. This could be it ... this could be the last time I see Sammy ... Oh shit, what do I say? Do I tell him how proud I am of him? how I hope he gets married someday? has a family? lives to a ripe o'l age? … How do you say goodbye to the people you love? How did dad do it?

Bobby does a last check of the thermometer reading.

"His temp is at 85° … get ready, and dammit to hell boys be careful, this is it!"

I can almost see them … crouching … taking aim.

My lips move … but no sound comes out ... he probably won't hear me, "I … love … you … Sam."

the room fades back …

my eye's drift closed …

heart beat slows …

until it finally …

stops.

_**TBC …**_


	5. Chapter 5

******Here's chapter 5 - _enjoy ;0)_**

_P.S: To all of you who have left me such fantabulous reviews ... thanks ... you really make my day ;0)_

_**Warning: Mild langauge et al**_

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**I've nearly died more times than I can count, but the strange thing is that I never see this 'light' everyone (well everyone who's nearly died) keeps talking about. Go figure. This place however is strangely familiar. I remember the smell and feel of it, but somehow it's altered. The fight with the rawhide, the hospital after the car accident, every other near death experience … I vaguely recall seeing myself, Sammy or my rescuers. But this … this is different. I'm nowhere near my body.

Instead, I find myself standing at a crossroad. The air is still. Everything around me is buried in dark shadows and nothing's moving. Where the hell am I? It looks suspiciously like the place where I made the deal for Sam's life, but that's miles away, how did I get here? I turn around slowly to see if I can get my bearings … and stop. There's a man leaning up against a sign post, looking off into black nothingness. I walk towards him … the sign above him reads 'Duat' … and as I get closer he turns to look at me …

"Dad?"

"Hey son!"

I'm overcome with joy … didn't think I'd ever get the chance to see him again. I rush forward as we clutch each other feverantly in a firm embrace. Damn it feels good. I bury my face in his shoulder to hide my tears … god, it's dad. I sniff loudly as he grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me affectionately.

"Dad … man it's so good to see ya. Look at ya. You look good … well as good as a soul can look. He, he."

"You too son."

He taps me on the cheek, tears of joy in his own eyes. I stare at him for a moment, I can't believe he's here, with me. I swallow another lump in my throat, god I'm turning into a girl.

"Shit dad, I've missed you … you have no idea … there's so much we need to talk about … so many questions I need answers to …"

"I know son, but we'll have plenty of time for that."

I don't think he realizes the urgency of the situation. I need to ask him about Sammy, about the demons we set free, about the deal I made and how to escape from hell ... I have no intention of staying there for eternity.

"Dad, you don't understand, I only have a few minutes and I need answers."

"I'll answer all your questions Dean, but right now, you need to come with me."

I'm not sure I heard him right. What's he talking about, go with him where? He seems to understand my confusion.

"You're dead Dean, but you didn't break your contract with the demon. Your life wasn't exchanged for your brothers because you died too soon. Your time wasn't up. Sam's safe and alive and you're free son. Your contract is null and void … you've done your bit and it's finally time to move on … come with me … come and see your mother … she's waiting for you."

I look at him dumbfounded, mom's waiting for me? It sounds too good to be true. I'm sorely tempted … but something holds me back.

"What about Sammy, I can't leave him?"

"Sammy's strong Dean, he can manage on his own, you don't need to look after him anymore."

"I'm really free?"

He nods his head and smiles, his hand held out in invitation, waiting for my acceptance. This is it? No strings attached? Shit, I can't believe it. My hand reaches out, but before our fingers touch, I stop. There's something wrong … something's wrong with this picture. Realization hits me hard.

"You're not my dad … he'd never tell me to leave Sam, EVER … who the hell are you!"

Cool, calculating eyes stare back at me.

"Yup … you're definitely as good as they say you are. You're old man taught you well."

The thing standing in front of me wearing dad's face suddenly transforms into a woman. An attractive woman in black leather, knee high boots, tight fitting pants, small 'cleavage displaying' jacket, black hair and coal black eyes.

Son of a bitch! This was a setup … should have known, should have friggin' known. Hatred flares up inside me.

"If you were going for the 'hot biker chick' look lady … you missed by a mile."

"Always the funny guy, hey Dean? … that's what I like about you … you don't take life too seriously, 'cause you just know you won't get out alive."

Shit, I wish I still had the colt 'cause I'd love to send this bitch back to hell where she belongs. My voice sounds almost as menacing as my deadly stare.

"What do you want with me? Why am I here?"

She saunters over and pushes herself up against me intimately. I feel sick. Her lips curl up into a smirk.

"If ignorance is bliss, you must be orgasmic Dean. You just don't get it, do you? You're the big prize and fate has handed you to me on a silver platter … Halloween's come early for me this year."

"So what? You just want me dead so you can have first dibs at my soul?"

"Yup, that's pretty much it!"

I've been messed around by two scheming bitches today! I couldn't fight off the first one, but I'll be damned if I give this one the satisfaction of taking me down.

"Well you've lucked out 'cause I've already made a deal. My life for Sams. One year. My time, as you correctly put it, is not up!"

She throws back her head and laughs. Shit I hate demons.

"Dean, Dean, Dean! You guys never read the fine print do you? You're right, you do have a year, but if you should happen to die unexpectedly before your expiry date, you become fair game, and just by the way, the same applies to little Sammy."

So help me, I'm gonna kill her!

"My sister was lucky enough to be around when you so generously gave your soul away. But I'm here now, and I figured, why should she get the spoils? Contrary to popular belief, there's no honor amongst thieves. You're very popular down here you know, we all want a piece of you and your brother. Too bad your dad got away, but hey, C'est la vie."

I lunge forward in an attempt to inflict some damage, any kind of damage, but she melts out of my grasp and reappears behind me as I spin around. She smirks.

"We're not in Kansas anymore Dean, you're on my playground now … and I'm afraid its the end of the road for you, so you can fight this, or you can come along quietly, it's up to you, but one way or another, you're mine!"

"I'm not going anywhere with you! Sam's gonna bring me back. They're probably 'jump starting' me as we speak."

Please be 'jump starting' me Sammy.

"You're not going back Dean. Your brothers gonna try … but he won't succeed!"

"Listen lady … you don't know me and you definitely don't know my brother. Sam will never give up on me. He'll fight with everything he has to bring me back and he won't give up until he does."

"Well I've got nothing but time … so let's go right ahead … let's sit around and wait for your brother to perform a miracle!"

Ah crap! What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to leave this place when I don't even know where I am? I'm knee deep over here. Wish I could see or hear something, anything, just get some sort of sign (a neon arrow pointing to the exit would be excellent).

I think the saints of deliverance must be looking out for me, 'cause in the distance I hear it … I'm not certain … but it sure sounds like Sammy's voice. He made it … thank god, not that I was worried … that means they must've killed that Lich Bitch … he, he … I said 'Lich Bitch' … god I'm a riot. I close my eyes and concentrate. And just like that, BAM! I find myself back in my body … that wasn't half bad … but I'm definitely suffering serious complications over here ...

I feel Sammy's soft mouth covering mine again as he forces his warm breath into my lungs, followed by firm successive pressure on my chest. Shit! I can't move, I can't communicate and it's taking every bit of willpower I have to hang on.

"Breathe Dean … please breathe!"

"Still no pulse, give him 1mg IV push of epi and let's try and shock him."

Oh god … I've landed on an episode of ER.

"Shit Bobby, how long's he been down?" it's Hal's panicked voice.

"10 minutes, he's gonna be okay, he's gonna be okay."

Bobby continues with the compressions as Sammy takes a breath and covers my mouth with his own again, forcing my lungs to expand.

I hear the charge of the defibrillator as the paddles are applied to my chest … Ah crap, this is gonna hurt … Bobby's gruff, "Clear!" and my body jerks as 360 joules courses through it.

"Again … Clear!"

My body arches again as the current flows to my unresponsive heart. Dammit to friggin hell! It's not working! Okay body, work with me here and I promise I'll lay off the baritos … for a while.

"Shit, still nothing! Hal bring more warm blankets and heat packs over here. We have to get his temperature up. It's still at 84° and we need to get it above 86°"

I hear the monotonous flat tone of the monitor as Sammy lifts my chin, pinches my nose and continues breathing for me while Bobby continues with compressions.

"Please Dean, don't do this to me, come back!"

More breaths, more compressions.

"… come on Dean! …"

I can't Sammy, god help me, I just can't … oh shit … I can feel myself slipping back and I don't have the power to hold on.

I collapse on the dirt road and look up into the smug face of the demon as she sits on a nearby boulder swinging her legs.

"Welcome back handsome!"

"Go to hell."

I'm exhausted, but I manage to get to my feet.

"Like I said Dean, you can't leave … and every time you try and fail, you get weaker."

"Shit … just my luck … getting stuck with 'Captain Obvious' for all eternity!"

She smiles at me knowingly … like she can see right through me … like she's reading my mind. She hops down from her perch and starts circling me like a predator.

"You're pain, your defeats, your insecurities, your sense of worthlessness … it's etched on your skin Dean, like a tattoo. Damn it's just sooo sexy. We could live off your tormented soul for years!"

"Great … now you've made me feel all 'warm and fuzzy' inside … when will the torture end?"

She stops and glares at me angrily … good! She's trying to break me but I'm an expert at protecting myself from hurt.

"You're a real hard ass aren't you?"

"Well I've had a few compliments from the ladies, but they usually call it 'cute' or 'firm' … Sammy's called it 'tight' on a few occasions … me personally … I think it's more of a 'kick' ass!"

She runs her hands through her hair irritably.

"You're starting to piss me off Dean … you won't like me when angry!"

I chuckle at the image of her turning into a lumbering green hulk.

"Yeah, well you got me … my master plan is to irritate you to death … am I succeeding?"

She pushes me with more force than I thought was possible. I'm thrown up into the air and land hard on my back a few feet away. Shit. That didn't feel good … can you bruise your soul … cause it sure feels like you can. Ow! I push myself up unsteadily. This chick definitely doesn't have a sense of humor.

"Are you ready to give up now Dean? You know this is futile!"

"I'm just getting started!"

I smirk at her aggravated expression, close my eyes and listen for Sam's voice and BAM! I'm back in my body. Damn … I'm sure people would pay good money for that kinda ride …

My lungs expand. I exhale. I try to inhale … nothing. Sammy's mouth is on mine again. Dammit, he's still breathing for me … how long can he keep this up? … how long can I stay like this? I still can't move so instead I listen to the frantic activities surrounding me.

"… breathe Dean …"

Someone's covering me in fresh warm blankets. More breaths and compressions as hot tears splash on my face.

"… please come back …"

Ah crap Sam, I really want to, I just don't know how … I'm here … but it's like I'm a prisoner in my own body.

"His temp is up to 87° … come on Dean, don't make us do all the work!"

I hear Hal's relieved voice at the sound of my erratic heart beat, "He's in V-fib!"

"That's it kiddo … okay let's give him another 1mg of epi …"

I feel a needle slide into my arm as warm saline is administered. Shit, didn't realize I was still this friggin' cold. The defibrillator charges again and Sammy forces another breath into my lungs.

"Please Dean … you have to be okay … please …"

"Alright boys … Clear!"

My back arches up with the shock. Shit that hurts.

"Still in V-fib … charge to 360 … Clear!"

The current courses through my body again. Come on heart, make a friggin effort. But instead of a steady beat the screeching alarm of a flat line reaches my ears.

"DAMMIT … we've lost him again … let's resume CPR!"

Sammy's mouth immediately covers my own as he forces air into my lungs but I just don't have the strength to hold on.

I land hard in the dirt.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

I push myself up slowly … god … I'm beat. Don't think I've ever felt this tired. I can feel the demon's eyes on me. I glance up just as she yawns, looking the complete picture of boredom.

"So, how was your trip? Did you send my love to Sam?"

"SHUT UP! Just shut up!"

She snorts loudly in amusement.

"How long do you want to keep at this Dean? Your body's already given up and very shortly so will your friends and brother."

"They won't … they can't."

I hate the sound of hopelessness in my voice.

"You're strength is gone Dean … you won't have the energy to return to them … just give up, you know you want to."

I can't give up. I couldn't do that to Sam, he's counting on me.

"You're all on your own Dean … nobody's gonna help you …"

Crap, I'm an idiot … I don't have to do this on my own, I'm not supposed to, that's why I've been failing. Sammy's my strength … I just need to latch onto his boundless energy and he'll act as my lifeline.

"That's the problem with you evil sons of bitches. You've always had too little faith in the human spirit."

"Ha, don't make me laugh Dean … you don't have any faith!"

She's right. I don't. I had faith once, a long time ago ... faith that 'Angels' would look out for us like mom said they would … it let me down. But Sammy still believes in Angels. He believes in a greater good that will conquer all evil. Even though I get on his case about praying and believing, I love him for it. And maybe, just maybe with all his prayers he can still save my sorry soul. Because if there is one thing I do have faith in … it's Sam.

I grin broadly. _Grin._

"Like I said, you don't know me or my brother …!"

I close my eyes … this is your last chance Dean … and listen for his voice. BAM! I'm back inside myself. Damn, that is such a cool ride, wish I could market it.

Sammy's still breathing for me, that's my boy, while Bobby continues with compressions. My chest hurts like a mother, I'm sure something's broken. Hot tears are still splashing on my face as Sam's voice catches, "Breathe, dammit to hell … Breathe Dean! … don't you friggin leave me!"

"Sam … Sam … it's over son, we have to let him go…," Bobby sniffs loudly, he sounds devastated. I can't believe my own ears … WHAT? NO … no way Bobby … I'm here dammit … don't you give up on me, not yet!

"NO! NO! … He's not dead, we have to keep trying, please Bobby … please … I'm begging you!"

"Sam, it's been 40 minutes, he's still unresponsive," Hal sounds on the verge of tears himself … Lord … I'm surrounded by girls.

"Please Bobby, we have to try … I can't let him die … he's my big brother!"

Crap … now I'm all choked up.

"Okay, lets give him another 1mg of epi …"

The firm compressions continue. Thank god. Just need to hold on. Sammy's warm breath fills my lungs. I get lost in the continous flow of CPR ... then jump slightly at the sudden sound of my irregular heartbeat from the monitor.

"… Dean?"

"He's in V-fib again … charge to 360 … clear!"

My back arches up off the table. There's a moments pause as they all wait for the result. Sammy's mouth immediately covers mine again for another quick breath.

"… come on Dean!"

My heart finally decides to kick in. I listen shocked for a few seconds to the regular rhythm. I inhale tentatively. Ow!

Bobby sounds just as shocked, "He's back … he's actually back … son of a gun! … blood pressure's stabilizing … we've got a normal rhythm … he's breathing on his own … Holy Crap!"

I hear Sammy's relieved sigh and listen to the sounds of whooping and congratulations. They're probably patting each other on the backs. But it's Sammy's voice that keeps my attention.

"Thank god … thank god Dean! Just stay with me, ya hear! … I'm gonna take care of you, you're gonna be okay … I promise!"

I don't have the strength to do anything but breathe painfully, I can't open my heavy eyes so I don't even try. I can hear Sammy's muffled sobs as he rubs my hand affectionately … poor kids had it rough. He jumps slightly as I use every bit of willpower I have to grab onto his arm. I feel the instant surge of connection and I'm almost sure I can hear the demon screaming angrily somewhere in the distance. You're not getting a piece of Dean Winchester today lady! With the last of my waning energy, I manage to whisper …

"What… took … you … so … long?"

Sammy's tearful chuckles follow me into fitful sleep.

_**TBC …**_


	6. Chapter 6

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_**Hi guys … this is the final chapter. Hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I did writing it ;0) – let me know what you think about me doing the exact same story but from Sammy's POV. It will fill in the missing bits from a different perspective (I'm pretty sure I can squeeze a little more angst out of Dean and Sammy - grins) but if you'd rather leave it up to your imaginations that's also good ;0)**_

******Here's chapter 6 - _enjoy ;0)_**

_P.S: Thanks again to everyone for the wonderful, marvellous, fantabulous reviews - you really warm the cockles of my heart ;0)_

_**Warning: Mild langauge et al**_

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Holy crap … I'm hot! I'm seriously friggin' hot for some reason. Ow! Ow! ... and my chest hurts! I try to shift my aching body, but I just can't move. It feels like someone's thrown a huge bear rug over me. I can't begin to explain the relief of actually finding 'heated' packs under my neck, arms and yes sir on 'Mr Frank and the Bean Brothers'. Warm beats freezing cold any day of the week. But there's an added weight on top of all of this … and it's snoring?

I open my eyes tentatively … turn my head … and look straight into Sammy's drooling face. Dr. Octopus over here has managed to get his entire lanky frame onto the small surgical table … damn he looks uncomfortable. He's definitely exhausted 'cause he usually sleeps lighter than a nervous rabbit in a fox hole. But here he is … oblivious to the world … while doing a seriously hazardous balancing act. Even asleep his one arm is flung protectively over my waist while his head rests awkwardly on the other. He's tightly pressed up against my side, his right leg thrown over mine more intimately then I ever wanted to be with a dude.

I grin tiredly. He was probably trying to get my temperature up with his body heat after my near death experience. Thankfully someone put a pair of sleeping shorts on me and Sammy's wearing his sweats … 'cause if he were naked … I'd rapidly have become an only child! I can't really remember much, but I think it was pretty bad. I still have this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that something's out there, waiting to get me. I swallow nervously.

I vaguely recall teasing Sammy about being stiff, which I am, every muscle in my body seems to be working against me, and now to add to my discomfort I'm hot … shit I'm uncomfortably hot. Beads of sweat drip from my hair onto my pillow but I just don't have the heart to wake Sammy. Poor kid looks beat, dark circles hang like crescent moons under his eyes ... he looks almost as bad as I feel.

Lord, what part of me doesn't hurt? I strategize my options of shifting out from under the blankets again, it's like trying to move a half ton boa constrictor. Sammy wriggles closer, mumbling something into my neck. I'd roll my eyes if I didn't think it would make me dizzy. Oh great … now I feel dizzy, nauseous and I think I may need to pee. Typical. I try to take stock of my condition. It feels like my ribs have been taped but the pain in my chest is beginning to intensify, throbbing with every breath. I'm not sure whether I've made a noise or whether it's the slight hitch in my breathing, but instantly his eyes open.

"Hey? Hey! You're awake!"

He untangles himself, hops off the table, stretches, yawns, hollers for Bobby and begins fluffing my pillow all at the same time. I _grin _at my little Ms Nightingale.

"How ya feeling?"

I try to focus on his blurry face. There's no point in trying to hide it.

"Chest hurts … hot!"

His hand immediately flies to my forehead, a look of panic on his face.

"Shit … you're burning up Dean!"

I gaze at him suspiciously while he quickly removes the heat packs and blankets.

"Sammy … were we … just … spooning?"

He snorts in amusement, "Maybe in your dreams dude … you're far too frigid for my liking!"

I snort back while he measures my temperature. A disheveled looking Bobby makes an appearance, he was probably also catching up on some beauty rest.

"Hey kiddo, how ya doin? … shit you look like crap!"

I grin again, trust Bobby to say it like it is, he doesn't exactly beat around the bush.

"Bobby, he's heart rates elevated, and his temps up to 101° …"

"Shit boy, you're more hot and cold than a woman going through the menopause!"

He begins removing the plaster covering my stitches, "Dammit … looks like he's gone and gotten himself an infection."

Why's everyone blaming the 'laid up' dude? My face creases as he prods the inflamed skin … shit … hurts! The words slip out before I can stop myself, "… owie, owie, owie …"

Sammy hurriedly wrings out a wet cloth and starts wiping down my sweat slick body.

"We're gonna have to remove the stitches and clean out the wound."

"Oh … that's just … thrilling." I try to rein in my enthusiasm.

My eyes are starting to drift shut when I suddenly remember, "where's … Hal?"

Bobby squeezes my arm reassuringly.

"He went back to sort out a few things at his office. He wanted to make sure that the trail leading to you two boys has run cold … he said it's the least he could do. He's a good man, and I think he's gonna be a great ally. It's good to have a lawman on our side for a change."

I smile. Who would have thought we'd make a friend out of this frigin' mess. Sammy's gentle ministrations with the wet cloth are helping to cool me down. I'm still in agony but I just can't keep my eyes open. So they drift shut.

…………………………

I can feel Sammy leaning over me, his Emo hair is tickling my nose as he puts his ear near my mouth.

"Yes … I'm breathing Sam …" I peek at him through tired eyes. He jumps guiltily, probably scared the crap outta him. _Grin._

"Just checking …," he frowns as he looks down at me, "… how the pain levels?"

I feel goddamn awful, so on a scale from 1 to 10 … I'm at 11, but instead I mutter, "about … 5."

He looks at me knowingly … can't put anything past Obi Won over here … but he doesn't say anything as he administers a painkiller to my drip.

My voice croaks, "Where's … Bobby?"

"He went to meet Hal at the farmhouse. He's gonna tow the Impala … they should be back any minute!"

Oh thank god! I feel better already … maybe they can park her outside my window so I can keep an eye on her, or maybe they can move me into the garage. Hope she's okay. Unconsciously my hand moves up to feel the plaster covering my sore chest, but Sammy stops it before it reaches its target.

"Leave it alone Dean!"

The little shit is actually giving me orders … but he looks worried. The blood drains from my face.

"How bad … Sam."

He rubs the back of his neck as he sits down next to me.

"Some of your stitches tore while we were resuscitating you. We tried to keep the wound clean but your body is so run down you've managed to get yourself one hellava infection. Bobby had to clean out the wound … it wasn't pretty … and I don't want you touching it. We've used up the last of the antibiotics and your immune system is fighting overtime to beat the infection."

Alrighty then … no touching of the plaster.

"Do you think you can manage a few ice chips?"

I nod my head.

He holds my head as he carefully spoons them into my mouth. Crap, this is one of the reasons I hate being sick. A man needs to be able to look out for himself dammit … but I also know that no matter how stubborn I am about it, I can't do this on my own, so I keep my bitch'n to myself. I let the bits of ice melt before I swallow. The cool liquid soothes my parched throat … it feels good.

"Sammy … what happened … with the Lich?"

I don't expect the Reader's Digest version so I half wiggle into a comfortable position for the story, he knows I like the details. I listen wistfully as Sammy begins describing the speed and agility of the Lich as it made its almost predictable window entry, seeing as every other nook and cranny was lined with salt.

"Well you know our plan was to take aim and just shoot this thing right …" I nod my head "... but that didn't go down so well. One moment it was right in front of us, the next moment it was across the room, and all before we could get off a shot. This thing was so erratic we had to switch tactics and fire randomly. Shit Dean … at one stage I thought you were gonna get caught in the crossfire."

Ah crap, that's definitely gonna add to some more sleepless nights for Sammy. I'll have to find a way to help him get rid of the guilt … he tends to carry that kinda unnecessary baggage around.

"Anyway, it all ended fairly quickly when Bobby managed to wing it with a blast from the shotgun. Luckily it wasn't quite prepared for us bringing it here … the battle really could've swung any way. That thing put up an impressive fight … I've never seen anything like it and that's saying a lot … we had to duck out of its reach a few times … but when my shot finally hit meat every other bullet seemed to hit the mark. It felt like forever … and then surprisingly… it flopped to the ground like a dead fish. I almost expected to get up again … like in those horror movies you watch … it didn't. Seriously Dean … I really don't want to meet one of those things again in a hurry."

I know what he means … me too.

"Bobby and Hal moved the carcass outside cause it started decaying almost immediately … man it was disgusting … you're lucky you missed it. But the best part was when Bobby tried to put a match to it outside, he says it flared up like a flame thrower ... Bobby managed to get away clean but it definitely singed someone's nostril hairs …"

He's probably embellishing the story a bit, but I don't mind. _Grin._

"Bobby says he couldn't stop laughing, but he managed to escape just before Hal broke loose … excuse the pun …"

I chuckle … then cough … then wheeze … god I think there's an invisible yeti sitting on my chest. I try to suck air into my starving lungs … shit it hurts.

"Ouch!"

Sammy hurriedly lifts me into a sitting position, "Shit Dean …I'm sorry man … just take it easy … breathe … are you okay? … please don't do this to me again … just breathe!"

Sitting up helps and I manage to catch my breath, I huff into Sammy's shoulder and he soothingly rubs my back.

I must've blanked out for a few minutes 'cause Sammy's not next to me when I come round and I find myself lying slightly elevated. Damn chest is cramping up with every breath I take … Ouch! Still hurts! My nerve endings are on fire and I'm hot. Oh Lord … I think I'm dying. I can hear someone arguing, my head feels fuzzy, seriously confused over here. Can't think straight … want to tell them to stop … stop fighting … but I'm too drained. Ah crap … I could really be dying … again. Where's Sammy? I look around in dread. The three of them are standing on the other side of the room in the middle of a heated debate. I try to focus on their blurred figures. I'll just ask him … he'll know the answer … what's the question again? Oh yeah! I can barely hear my voice through the ringing in my ears.

"Sammy?"

He looks over at me and instantly rushes to my side, "Hey there … you okay?"

"… am I dying?"

His face turns red …

"NO DEAN! SHIT NO! … don't … don't you even say that … you're not gonna die …and you're definitely not dying … you hear me!"

Bobby places a calming hand on Sammy's shaking frame. My fevered brain can't understand why he's shouting ... what did I say? Damn he's upset … and angry … why's he so angry? I'm actually feeling way too sick to care … so instead of trying to figure out Sammy's weird mood swings … I just nod my head.

"SHIT Bobby, we have to get him to a hospital."

"We can't move him Sam, he's too weak, he won't survive the trip!"

"Well then what the hell are we going to do, he's ill … he's delirious … he needs antibiotics … and he needs them right now!"

"We'll just have to break-in to a hospital pharmacy and get some supplies … Bobby and I can do it, shouldn't be too hard, I can act as a distraction … besides we don't have any other choice!" It's Hal's voice … it's always the quiet ones.

They seem to come to an agreement because Bobby and Hal leave and Sammy sits down next to me. He replaces a cool cloth on my forehead as I struggle to keep my eyes open. For an instant the look on his face is so full of love it makes me uncomfortable … I have to fight the urge not to run. He sits quietly watching me breathe and then hesitantly puts his hand on over my heart.

"I'm sorry Dean … didn't mean to go all postal on you like that … it's just ... I can't lose you again."

I'm not going anywhere Sammy.

"It's okay … just rest … I know you're tired. Close your eyes … I'll keep watch."

I smile, he's taking care of things … and I am pretty worn out …

I drift in and out of consciousness. Don't think I've ever felt this sick before. Sammy sponges me down gently, the cool cloth moving over my entire body and bringing relief from the raging fever.

_I don't know how I got here, but I'm standing in a dimly lit room ... I can see Sammy … he's directly in front of me … if I reach out I can touch him … he's smiling at me with sad eyes … I want to go to him but I can't move … and then I see it … it's the Lich … she's hovering just behind him … I try to call out, to warn him, but I can't move and I can't make a sound … oh shit … another woman moves out of the shadows, wearing black leather, her black eye's pierce my soul …she's holding a knife … NO! … SAM LOOK OUT! … he doesn't hear me … oh god it's happening again … I have to get to him … I struggle to break the numbness that is immobilizing my body … don't let it be too late, please god, don't let it be too late … they're both reaching out for Sammy, he doesn't see them … NO! _

A raw … "NOOOOOOO!" … tears from my throat as I bolt upright on the surgical table, sweat pouring from my body.

"SAMMY!"

He's not here, he's not with me, oh god, they've got him. Those bastards have my Sammy. I push myself up … I rip the wires and tubing as I stumble to my feet. I need to get out of here, I have to save him … I'm not gonna let him die … not again! Adrenalin pushes me forward and just as I'm about to reach the door … it swings open. A stunned Sam, Bobby and Hal look at me in shock. Hal is carrying a box full of medical supplies. My fevered brain is trying to tell the difference between dreams and reality but I'm pretty sure it's my baby bro ... he's okay … he's standing in front of me … I grin … he's alive … relief floods my system and the last thing I see is Sammy rushing forward to catch me as I pass out.

…………………………

There was this girl that I met once in Jersey. Can't remember her name, know she had a pair of knockers to die for, but the thing I remember about her most was her tongue. I remember the way she devoured my mouth while I rocked her world against the headboard. I was fascinated by it. I think it was the longest, most nimble tongue I'd ever seen. The things that tongue could do. I remember her licking me all over, it was almost as though she wanted to eat me up from head to toe.

It feels like that same tongue is licking my fingers now.

I swear to god ... if it's Sammy ... he's a dead man!

I open my eyes cautiously … and _sigh _with relief!

It's just Bobby's mutt. I'm lying draped across Bobby's old couch, my hand hanging over the edge which was obviously an invitation for Rumsfeld. I rub him affectionately on his huge head. I can hear Sammy clanging around in the kitchen. He's been fussing non stop over me since I let is slip that I felt hungry and can actually keep something down. He gets all 'mother henny' when I'm not well, it's his way of coping with stress. There's the definitive smell of Bobby's home made soup wafting around the place (and the aroma of fresh popcorn?). It smells delicious. My tummy growls with appreciation.

"_Growwwwwwl!"_

Rumsfled's head quirks to the side as he watches my stomach. I give him a withering look.

"What? Give me a break, I haven't eaten anything since lunch!" he whines as though he knows that lunch was only 2 hours ago. I give him another withering look.

Yup, Sammy … my very own Martha Stewart … he's probably getting me a bowl of that mouth watering soup as we speak. I look over at Rumsfeld's slobbering mug and snorkel.

"He, he, he!"

Plans begin to form in my evil brain. I wait for a few seconds for Sammy's return. Pretending not to notice as his worried face pops around the corner carrying the tray of tasty goodies, I start patting Rumsfeld on the head while he wags his tail enthusiastically.

"You're still a way better kisser than Sammy …yes you are … yes you are!"

Sammy stops short, looks at me and the mutt, and burst out laughing. I can't suppress a chuckle of my own. Sammy is laughing so hard he nearly drops my tray of thick creamy chicken soup and oven warm corn bread.

"Sammy, don't you dare mess with my grub, get over here! I'm on the verge of starvation!"

I wave my hands at him impatiently.

"Sorry Dean, you just really crack me up sometimes!" Sammy is wiping tears of laughter on his sleeve as he puts the unsteady tray down on the table.

"Yeah, I think I need to take my act on the road!"

He's suddenly very serious.

"Don't start! You're not going anywhere until you're 100. Bobby says that it's gonna take at least another week before you're even on your feet!"

I sigh miserably in acceptance. Just because it's true, doesn't mean that I've got to like it. I shift slowly, my ribs still hurt like a mother. I give Sammy a look of warning just in case he tries to help me (he's already hovering). I manage to get myself up into a fairly comfortable sitting position. There are pillows and blankets everywhere. It's a miracle there's any room for me.

I've been drifting in and out of consciousness for two days. My panic attack caused a bit of a setback, what with me passing out and Sammy nearly having a hernia. The new batch of antibiotics worked like a bomb though, infections gone and Bobby says I even have some color in my cheeks. I'm ignoring the fact that he was giving me a vitamin B injection in the ass at the time. Today is the first day that I'm strong enough to sit on the couch. And now it's become my base of operations. It's close enough to the kitchen, the bathroom and more specifically the TV. I've been watching re-runs of The Thundercats, The Six Million Dollar Man and in a few short minutes 'NFL Football' … god I love cable.

Sammy scoots in next to me … he smells squeaky clean … probably had a shower … but he hasn't brushed his tousled hair yet. I look at his wet hair … I look at Rumsfeld … I grin evilly. He shifts pillows and blankets to fit his long-limed frame, a huge bowl of popcorn cradled in arms. I'm definitely having me some popcorn as soon as I've worked my way through my own cuisine. My hand shakes slightly as I lift the warm spoon to my mouth. Sammy's worried sideways glance doesn't go unnoticed as I take another flavorful mouthful.

"Oh man … this … is so … good!"

Juices are dribbling down my chin as Bobby and Hal walk in the front door.

"Holy cow … he eating again?"

Oooh cow … I could do with a juicy steak.

"Got to … build up … mfff strength," I say as I stuff another huge piece of butter melting corn bread into my already full mouth.

Bobby and Hal chuckle.

"He's definitely on the road to recovery!"

"Maybe we should steam you up some vegetables, you'll need the vitamins!"

I snort disgustedly, "vegetables aren't food …they're what food eats!"

Sammy snorkels and shakes his head. Don't know what he finds so funny.

"Dean's diet consists mainly of animals or their by-products. If it doesn't moo and have horns … he won't eat it!"

"If we're not supposed to eat animals, how come they're made out of meat?" I wiggle my eyebrows. Sammy chuckles.

My tummy is pleasantly full but my hand still snakes out every minute or so to steal some of Sammy's popcorn. He doesn't seem to mind. Bobby and Hal grab some beers as they join us to watch the match. Sammy takes a sip of his own cold brew while I give my glass of orange juice a dirty look. Damn … I really, really, really hate being sick! Somewhere just before the end of the 2nd quarter I make a move to get up.

"What the hell are you doing Dean!"

"Gotta pee … do you mind?"

"Let me help you …"

I give him another warning look but that doesn't stop him from helping me to my feet. I sway slightly but I manage to stay upright. Ooh … ribs absolutely still hurt … I hiss through my teeth. I quickly brush Sammy's arm away before he scoops me up and carries me to the toilet seat.

"I can do it …" I begin shuffling slowly to the bathroom, Sammy cussing under his breath about stubborn, stupid older brothers. He watches me like a hawk all the way to the bathroom door.

"If you're not back in 5 minutes … I'm coming in!" He means it.

I give him a victorious smile and the thumbs-up as he reluctantly sits down again, Bobby and Hal nodding their heads in agreement at Sammy's remark about me being a jackass.

Good. There attention is back on the TV … and Rumsfeld has followed me … smart dog. _Grin_. I let him follow me into the bathroom as I close the door. I shuffle over to the toiletries … there it is … Sammy's 'non-tangle/extra volume' hair gel. I smirk again as I look down at the dogs sticky, slimy, drooling mug … I'm definitely goin' straight to hell!

I make it back to the couch just before the 3rd half and we watch the rest of the game with enthusiastic gusto! The Dallas Cowboys win by 6/1. I collect my winnings from Bobby and Hal … Sammy snorts in amusement.

He ruffles his fingers through he's now 'dry' hair and gets up to go to the bathroom.

Oh yeah … here it comes! I sit back and wait. _Grin._ I haven't forgotten about the ice-packs.

"OH HOLY SHIT … WHAT THE HELL … DEANNNNNNN! …. god you are sooo friggin GROSS … SHIT … I'm gonna kill you!"

Bobby and Hal look at me with raised eyebrows.

'He, he, he!"

Maybe I should start my own reality TV show … 'Pimp my Hair' … paybacks a bitch … snorkel!

_**Fin ;0)**_


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